


Red Sand Gnats

by Arghnon



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate universe where the guardians are a myth and barely anyone knows about them, M/M, One-Shot, Pre-temple fall, cause attention span too short for multichap, chirrut yet to be blind, totally did not read the book when i read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 00:49:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11703318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arghnon/pseuds/Arghnon
Summary: “I want to be a Guardian of the Whills.”Baze stares at him. Then returns to his holopad without a word. He doesn’t even look up at Chirrut’s long displeased whine. He just uses his hand to push the other boy’s face away when he tries to come closer.“They don’t exist. Go study, Chirrut.”OR an alternate universe where the Guardians are believed to be a myth and Chirrut wants to join them





	Red Sand Gnats

Red sand gnats are a Jedhan nuisance. Baze is thankful the initiate dorms are high enough that they can’t reach his windows. Unfortunately for Baze, there are some things more annoying than red sand gnats. One of those things is currently pleading his name for attention. 

“Baze.”

“Baaaaaaze.”

“Bazey Baze!”

“Baze the Bantha will you please-”

He slams his holopad onto his bed and groans, “What is it now, Chirrut? We have a scripture exam in two days.”

He has to roll on his side to glare at the other boy who clearly does not care one bit about said scripture exam judging by his lack of a holopad and abundance in energy. He is kneeling at the side of Baze’s bed, his chin planted firmly on top of his crossed wrists. The boy’s smile is a wide one. Baze is wary of how his eyes glittered in the light.

“I want to be a Guardian of the Whills.”

Baze stares at him. Then returns to his holopad without a word. He doesn’t even look up at Chirrut’s long displeased whine. He just uses his hand to push the other boy’s face away when he tries to come closer.

“They don’t exist. Go study, Chirrut.”

“Yeah, they do!” his voice coming out strange from how his cheek squishes against Baze’s hand. Baze groans again and rubs his face into the crook of his elbow. He doesn’t have time for this.

“They don’t exist, Chirrut. They’re just an old pilgrim’s tale to scare away kyber thieves. If they did exist, the archives would have mentioned it.”

“You haven’t read all of the archives then,” he grabs Baze’s wrist to stop it from shoving at his face again.

“I have because we have an archives exam. Two weeks after our scripture exam which is in two days,” he tilts his head pointedly to his notes.

Chirrut simply waves away any notions of exams like they were a small swarm of gnats themselves.

“No, no, no! Look, they do exist,” at this Baze tries to protest once more but Chirrut just speeds ahead, “They do exist! Elder Krukzah is one, I’m sure of it. That’s why she always wears what she does! We can ask her how to become a Guardian!”

Baze freezes at the mention of their Elder. A not so elder Elder but respected nonetheless. She always did walk with much more elegance and grace than the other Elders. She holds an aura of power as she roams the hallways of the temples that has Baze both admiring and fearing her at the same time. He hopes one day he would command the same presence as she did. He can’t, though, think of anything she wears that is especially different from the other Elders. He mentions as much.

Chirrut’s smile grows wider at that. All the more excited at once again having noticed something Baze has not. It is part of an unsaid and unnecessary competition between them.

“It’s her sashes, see. She always wears the same ones in the same order, red underneath and the black one on top with the stripe!” he whispers as if the Elders can hear them from the other side of the temple, “And her undershirt. It’s Sarkhen fibres. You only ever wear those in combat and they’re not exactly sold at the weekly market, you know! If she’s just an Elder, she wouldn’t need it at all but she wears it everyday!”

Baze can feel his own eyebrows furrow as he realizes that what Chirrut is saying is true. She is one of the only Elders who wears the same sashes everyday and not just wearing sashes of the same colour. If he remembers correctly, they are always the same material, tied meticulously one over the other. And her undershirt does look like it was made of Sarkhen fibres, with it’s deep navy colour and harsh ridges. The only other people he’s seen wear them were the guards of the Trade Circle, armed to the teeth in weaponry to ensure no trouble sprouted among the merchants and customers.

He is still reluctant to believe his friend though. 

“Elders can wear whatever they want above or under their robes. Maybe those were the clothes of her home. She is from the Colder Side of NiJedha anyways. Sarkhen is more common there.”

“But get this: High Acolyte Zarishna also wears Sarkhen fibre undershirts AND the same black sash AND,” Chirrut pauses. He looks around cautiously even though this is their room, no one else is here to overhear. He wriggles closer on his elbows like a gruvikan glow worm. Their faces are close to touching and his eyes look brighter at this distance, lit up in excitement. “I caught them fighting.”

Baze’s eyes widen.

“Fighting? About what?”

“I don’t know!” Chirrut smiles, “They weren’t arguing, you see. They were fighting. Physically. With quarterstaffs!”

“Quarterstaffs?”

“Yes! I saw them! In the courtyard behind the Blue Gardens, the one facing the mines. I walked in on them once when I couldn’t sleep at night.”

“You couldn’t sleep at night? When was this?” 

“That’s not the point, Baze. The point is why would they be sparring?”

“Maybe they’re just doing it for exercise.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“It is much cooler at night-”

“Baze! Come on!” Chirrut shouts. He isn’t smiling anymore. “I believed your stupid Force bantha shit, can’t you just trust me this _one_ time!”

Silence falls on them. He can hear his friend’s hard breathing and the buzzing of the red sand gnats from far below the initiate dorms. Chirut has sat straight up, looking down at Baze with a blazing expression on his face. He can see his lip trembling slightly and hear his nails scrape against the bedding in a deathgrip. 

“I do trust you,” Baze can’t help the words tumble from his mouth softly. He feels the shame and guilt flood him immediately. Here is his friend, upset at him, and yet he is getting defensive instead of asking why he sounds so hurt. 

But it works. Chirrut deflates with a thud of his knees onto their room floor.

“Yeah. I know you do.”

Chirrut lets his hands drop to the bed and looks at his nails, picking at them. They look terrible, chipped and coated in dirt like when he tried to scale the walls that encircled the Spiral Steps to the top of the temple. He had claimed the kyber embedded in the tower was singing to him to reach up and hold it. He had been grinning wildly at the time. His entire being had seemed to emit it’s own light. Chirrut was always made for something bigger than this small little moon.

He gives him time to calm down and gather his thoughts. Sometimes Chirrut needs that. He said his thoughts sometimes run faster than dune scavengers, too fast for him to catch and comprehend and speak. Sometimes it’s harder, especially when his emotions run high and the songs of the kyber and the Force would mix and muddle his head. Baze’s hand twitches with the urge to hold his hand. He keeps it still.

Chirrut takes a deep breath, not looking up from his fingers.

“I know you do. Trust me, I mean. It’s just...I’m serious about it. I know it sounds stupid and childish and whatever but I mean it. Something tells me, that I’m right, that, that something that _you_ called the Force,” he meets Baze’s eyes, “I-It tells me that this is what we’re supposed to do, supposed to be. Guardians of the Whills. Me and you. Together.”

Baze chews on the inside of his lip, watches the way his friend’s fingers press hard against each other, searches his eyes for anything less than the pure honesty and conviction they shone with. He doesn’t see it. He never expected to.

“Okay.”

Chirrut gasps, “Really?”

Baze makes a show of rolling over in exasperation. He sighs obnoxiously loud like all this was more trouble than it’s worth just to see Chirrut’s lips twitch back into a smile.

“Yeah, really.”

His friend cackles in absolute delight, tossing himself on top of Baze and earning him a squawked grunt.

“You’re the best, Bazey! I knew I could trust you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles but his lips had it’s own smile at the corners. He lets himself enjoy the warmth of his friend’s body only for a short while before he tosses him back onto the hard stone floor.

“Now go study.”

“Sir, yes, sir!”


End file.
